I confess that I took terrible advantage of him. He’d made the mistake of stocking up on a great wealth of provisions for men of horse, only to have the war move too far east of him. I was able to secure a campaign’s worth of kit, food, and feed for a fraction of the price. Alsman Herr would not have approved the expense, but he was a stinking corpse and a replacement had yet to arrive.
Our Akal-Tak feasted upon warmed bags of rye meal, eggs, and butter, and each man had steak and vegetable pie twice a day with as much clean water he could drink. I set our pace for recovery, not expedience.
Bessradi appeared before us on the 29th—vast, imperturbable, rich, and magnificent.
The messenger we’d sprung from the swamp rode out to meet us as we approached the city’s south gate. It was an exquisite surprise. He’d been promoted, and wore a uniform bright with golden brocade sewn into his collar, vest, and cuffs. He was a dedicated messenger now—a man meant to speak only to my father and to me. His posture was much relaxed. His guards and their lieutenant were also at ease. These were proud men, and they wore their success like armor.
“A good day to you, sirs,” I said.
“My lord, you may address me as your honor. I have been made a royal envoy,” he replied, but with a gracious bow instead of the usual scowl of such men. I was not entirely sure but suspected he was trying to be funny.
“A just reward, your honor, and a happy one. I do not like transacting words upon sheets. I am at your disposal. Tell me, how may I please our Exaltier?”
He looked once back at the lieutenant, as if for a bit of confidence, and then rode close enough that no one could overhear.
“Forgive me this impertinence a moment, my lord. There are things you must know. Much has happened since the attempt upon the Exaltier’s life. The Sten has struck down the Edict of the Renewal, and Parsatayn has taken control of the treasury from the dismantled Ministry. Since then they have all withdrawn utterly. No one has seen the Exaltier, Sten, or Chancellor Parsatayn in many days. Minister Sikhek and his Hessier are believed to be dead.”
“How is the city functioning?”
“Better than ever. The Council put out the word for every loyal man of the Kaaryon to do his duty. The rank and file has stepped in. The bailiffs and judges move swiftly. The father’s envoys are doing the same.”
“What of the royals and nobles?”
“They move east, competing for the glories of war with the apostate.”
“Bessradi is in the hands of its bureaucrats.”
“At last, my lord,” he said with pride. “We are, at last, in charge.”
I kept my opinion of this to myself. “My father will not see me?”
“No. He sees no one,” he said and then whispered, “and I cannot advise you to enter the capital. The rule of the Yentif is being openly questioned. Until this war with the East is resolved, the capital is not safe for any man of the ruling class.”
“My father and the rest hide from the mob?” I asked and remembered like a blow to the head what Okel had told me about the power of the mob.
The envoy shrugged. “If you ride in, you will be the first royal face the city has seen in ten days. The Hemari have withdrawn to the palace, Parsatayn has raised the bridge of the Treasury Keep, and the Sten’s pikemen have assembled around the Tanayon. There is a rumor that he means to move east to personally command the attack on Havish, but I do not believe it.”
“Very well, your honor,” I said and bowed. “You serve Zoviya well, and I thank you for your candor. What other news can you share?”
“Your brother Barok and his regent in Trace have declared war upon Aderan and all that support her.”
“He threw in with Heneur?” I asked, but my disbelief faded. Aderan was Parsatayn’s puppets. Barok meant to unseat him.
“Good for him!” I declared. “The capital takes the news well?”
“It does. The mob has loved every story of him since he started sending the heads of Hessier as gifts to your father.”
I reserved comment on that as well and waited for the proud bureaucrat to move on.
“The Pelleun and everyone who ever knew them have been arrested,” he said, and I smiled with him. The messenger’s report of Travijion had caused this action, and it had made his career. He went on, saying, “The Tanayon is hearing their cases tomorrow.”
“That reminds me, has a new alsman been assigned to me? I’ve expected one to arrive for some time.”
He could not suppress a smile. “Several, but after each is appointed they resign and flee the city.”
“Why? Do they believe I will kill every alsman the Chancellor sends?”
“My report may have included language that leads them to that conclusion.”
I decided that I liked this man very much. “Another reason for me to avoid the capital.”
“Just so,” he replied and relaxed back to the same easy state he’d come in. My estimation of the bureaucrats had changed. This envoy, whose name I still did not know, was acting each moment as a principal—an owner of the enterprise of men.
Bessradi had a thousand like him—men with a nose for the mob who loved their empire and its golden heart. They would remake it while those on top hid.
“You will travel with us to Alsonbrey?” I asked.
“No. It is enough to know that you are upon the road. I will make it known that you go east eager for the fight. Yarik, you will be interested to know, reached Pashwarmuth. It is assumed he means to recover and resupply there. The move is viewed as cowardly.”
“Is that what the mob says?”
“It does. The mob loves tales of a prince upon a horse with his spear, not vacationing at an eastern whorehouse.” He said this last with the pride of an author.
“What else does the mob say?”
He switched back to the smallest whisper. “You best get busy making sons. Your father’s prohibition of your having children is despised. If he passes and none of you have bothered to secret away an heir, the Yentif will be discarded.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. “What else of my time in the south did you report?”
He thought about this and asked, “Is it possible, my lord—in any way possible—that your girl is a Ludoq princess?”
The mob wanted me to bring Liv home—the Yentif conqueror returned with a baby boy in the belly of a royal Havishon princess.
“Perhaps,” I said and extended my hand to him. “What is your name?”
“Vernon Orender,” he replied, shook my hand, and withdrew.
36
Arilas Barok Yentif
The 23rd of Spring, 1196
Regent-Arilas Erd Oklas, Arilas Lukan Vlek, and I watched as the crates went up the keep’s stairs to the armory, one after another—160 sets of armor, weapons, and kit. In my hand, I held word from my father of war with the East and the scourge of Sikhek and his Ministry. The letter, the countless vital events of Soma’s voyage, Leger’s thrust into the Oreol, and the critical work of my many envoys swirled in my head like a tempest. The pair knew every detail and would be joining Soma in the morning to be taken from the Shadow and sworn to the Spirit of the Earth.
Our unbreakable alliance of peoples and provinces was forged the moment we had seen Soma’s cargo. There was an enemy in our midst who did not answer to Bessradi, and nothing but the swiftest actions would preserve us. It was providence that had brought us together in Urnedi that day.
Great works of all kinds were already in motion: a treaty, bank charter, the founding of a healer’s college, ratification of Leger’s deals with Almidi, the destruction of the corsairs, our war with the Oreol and Aderan, the combination and staffing of our prelatures, the construction of a fleet, and trade of all kinds. All had been agreed to with the swiftness demanded by our common cause. Yet each of these imperatives were secondary to those crates, the mystery of where they’d been going, and why.
“Dekay told you the Ashmari cannot be detected?” Erd asked.
�
��He did. But things in the provinces are not what they are in the Kaaryon. The aid, shelter, and anonymity the Hessier enjoy in a city of two million is not available to them here. We will uncover all those who support them, we will learn their faces and their names, and we will destroy them.”
Lukan asked, “What do you propose?”
“We make them known,” I said. “We put the truth of the Hessier in letters to every arilas, royal, and noble in Zoviya. We tell the world what they are, how they can be found, and how they can be killed.”
“But how can they be found?”
“We make it a condition of entry into our provinces that a man bleeds a drop of red blood. We make it a practice of every meeting and introduction for men to prove their veins are not cold and gray. We make the gifting of war hammers a requirement of polite society. We leave our enemies nowhere to shelter. We unsettle their plans, hunt them, and kill them.”
“And their thralls?”
“We do not know yet how to detect them, but the Ashmari could find Sikhek’s thralls, so we will learn how to find theirs. In the meantime, they are just men, and we have a way to guarantee the freedom of the men in our trust.”
“I look forward to the morning’s convocation,” Lukan said.
“As do I,” I said. “Is it agreed, then, that we send the letters bearing all of our names?”
“I will sign them,” Erd said.
Lukan reached for a brush.
37
Madam Dia Yentif
Avinda Dooma
Worse. The waves of nausea would not end. Every day, every moment. No amount of pampering, bathing, or food helped me. Lady Umera and Pemini visited often, but their help was of no use, either.
“Make it end,” I yelled.
The doors opened, and a breeze broke over me. I vomited spittle onto the pillow and burped evil air.
“Close the door,” I screamed.
Whoever it was sat down next to me. Barok again, I assumed, and growled curses at him.
“He’d better not do that,” Avin said. I rolled over and told the priest to go do the same. Moving had been a mistake, and I gripped the edge of the bed. My stomach spun into a tighter and tighter knot.
“Let’s try this,” he said. He began to sing, and the touch of heaven washed my face and neck. He guided me over onto my back and set his hands firmly upon my rounded belly. The blue light bathed me in happiness. The baby calmed. The tension in my neck and back eased. My chilled flesh warmed. I shifted my hips, and my back cracked like an eggshell.
The glorious blue light faded to the warm glow of an Enhedu dawn.
“I’m so hungry,” I pleaded suddenly. “Is there food?”
“There is,” he said with a bit of a laugh and carried across a tray.
Ham, bread, stewed apples. I ate some of my hair, I think, as I gulped it and the water down. I paused long enough for a breath and a question. “What day is it?”
“The 23rd. And a beautiful day it is, too.”
The food began to soak in as I thought through all the many things I must have missed. I asked between bites, “Does the blue always work this well?”
“Yes. Every time. We charged five weights of gold per visit when I was a healer in Bessradi.”
I took a few long, happy breaths, and my thoughts began to settle. My stomach smiled at me. I said to him, “I wouldn’t have expected you to be a man of mercy. You are very unlike a healer.”
“No,” he said with a strange laugh. “You have a rather fanciful idea of healers, is all. They are men who transact in misery, not mercy. You’d find the nolumari to be a far more noble and professional bunch. They, at least, have a body of laws to keep them honest. The healers only need to keep the Conservancy happy—a relatively easy task. The profession is filled with craven men. It will be a good day for this world when we replace Bayen’s healers.”
“Why do you hate them so much? What did they do to you?”
“Do? They do nothing, and it is abhorrent. They hold in their hands the power to do so much good but use it only to enrich themselves and the church. There are very few in Zoviya who can afford 300 weights of gold to ensure the health of a mother and child.”
“That is why Lord Vall is able to have so many children,” I said, feeling like I should have known it all along.
“Yes. There is a class of people in the Kaaryon for whom health is no concern. Barok came from that set, though I do not think he knows the distinction.”
I looked at him sideways. “So what did you get from Barok in exchange for coming up here today?”
He laughed lightly. “His continued support and patronage for the college we will build.”
I asked, “Do you know what you can do to keep my support and patronage?”
He was unsure of my seriousness. “What would that be?”
“There are a lot of pregnant women in Urnedi just now.”
“Ohh! A marvelous notion,” he said and clapped his hands. “In Bessradi, it was the privates of old men we practiced on, not pregnant women’s bellies. I will make it a component of the training. Fantastic, truly, Dia. Thank you.”
“What else have I missed since you returned?”
“Many things have happened. Regent Oklas is here, and Soma returned from Heneur with Arilas Vlek. An alliance of the provinces has been forged.”
“What of Leger? Has he come home yet?”
“No. He is somewhere in the Oreol. I was as surprised as you that he did not come home after he heard the news. I hope he is well.”
“I am worried about him. We should not be using him up this way.” The worry invited the tension back into my neck and shoulders, and I rose to run a bath. I was about to excuse Avin when I noticed what he was wearing. “Is that a canon vest?”
“It is. Senior Nolumari. I was able to get myself reinstated while I was in Bessradi, which has allowed Barok to name me the Chief Prelate and Magistrate of Enhedu.”
“Anton’s case,” I exclaimed. “Will you be able to judge it?”
“Yes. I will hear his case, that sword master’s, and scores of others. Barok sent word of my appointment to Bessradi, as he is required, and I will begin the practice of law in Enhedu as soon as we can reasonably believe it to be delivered.”
“The church will accept your appointment? Just like that?” I asked.
“Well …” Avin said as though he meant not to tell me, but relented. “The notice is more of a passing mention within Errati’s Report of Standing to Lord Vall. An alsman’s report to the Exaltier is technically an act of the church—an argument that would suffer in a courtroom—but good enough for me to take the post. And once I am the chief prelate of Enhedu, simply holding the title makes it hard to challenge.”
“Good,” I told him despite his rambling. “Anton has been sitting too long waiting to be hanged.”
“You have evidence of his guilt?”
“Evidence? No, I—”
“Then please do not speak to me again of the matter. I cannot be influenced.”
“I … of course, Avin. My apologies.”
He waved me off. “No, no apologies necessary. My words were hasty. It is I who owe you an apology for taking so long to sing to you and the baby.”
I waved him off almost as ardently but began to suspect the old Bessradi healer’s motives. He could have come earlier. There was a reason he’d come when he had. Avin was from Bessradi—of that, there was no doubt. I would have been furious if not for the warmth of the Spirit. “What is Edonia going to ask of me today?”
“There is a meeting—a convocation with Lady Soma atop the keep this morning. Many are taking the oath, including Regent Oklas and Arilas Vlek. It is hoped that you can as well.”
“Whose hope?”
“Soma’s. Her invitation, her rules. I’m to fetch Geart and Ryat next.”
A mother making decisions for Enhedu. It was about time. “Tell her I will join her presently.”
He excused himself with a bow.
38
Geart Goib
“So this is your plan?” Ryat asked as he paced along after me through the crowds in Merit Square. The market had been closed the previous day to allow Erom’s crew to lay cobblestones from corner to corner. Everyone was out that morning for a stroll across the fresh gray sheet.
It had to work today.
yew
No one in the crowd reacted.
YEW
Nothing.
“The greencoats love the practice listening,” he said. “I am not sure how this helps us, though.”
“It’s only part of the plan. First things first. I need to find singers.”
“Any luck so far?” he asked with the tone of a humble and helpful librarian. I didn’t like it.
“It’s only been six days. Is this why you came to find me? To piss in my ear?”
“No. We are due at the keep. Thought you might have forgotten.”
I stopped and took him by the arm. “You’ve earned yourself a place here, but do not think that saving my life has earned you my trust. Every single thing you have done since we met has been entirely self-serving.”
“I’m only trying to help.”
“Hog shit. You serve yourself. No one else.”
The librarian’s expression fell away. He said, “Not so different, then, are we? You are only just back to even. I can tell it. You have verbs swirling in your head, and this show of yours is a sham.”
“A sham?”
“Yes. A sham. Your plan is infantile. You should be organizing the destruction of Bayen’s church and studying a legitimate method for finding singers. All you are doing is giving me a headache.”
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